


The Brown Recluse

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Casual Sex, Chronic Illness, Doctor Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Love/Hate, M/M, Nurse Meg Masters, Spiders, Surgeon Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Sam is the hospital attorney where his brother works as a surgeon. He can't stand the arrogant, cold hematologist. Castiel works quietly in his lab all day. Though he likes his co-workers, there is no one at the hospital he would consider a friend, certainly not the conceited, smartass lawyer down the hall. It's almost embarrassing, then, that they keep ending up in bed together.





	1. The Feeling is Mutual

**Author's Note:**

> For sweet Nonny Mouse, who wanted Hate-at-First-Sight Sastiel.

The man was infuriating.

Castiel Sermír was pulling on his trousers without a word. Because he was a completely emotionless jackass.

If he weren't high on post-coital hormones, Sam might have told him so. It took till the coat was halfway on for Sam to speak at all. “See you at work,” he grumbled with a touch of sarcasm. 

The arrogant bastard turned to look at him as if he had forgotten Sam was in the room at all. Which was especially obnoxious because it was Sam's apartment. An eyebrow quirked at him. “I guess so,” he muttered, as if it hadn't occurred to him, nor did he care now that it did.

The bedroom door closed behind him, and a moment later, Sam could hear the apartment door close too. “Smug asshole,” he sighed. “Hot. Unbelievably hot. But so smug.”

They didn't run into one another all morning at work. Sam was relieved, but a little annoyed, for no good reason. The most irritating thing about Dr. Sermír was that he had an entirely unflappable work persona, and seemed not even to recognize Sam in the hospital. It was obnoxious, but at least it kept Sam from having to speak to him.

“You're growling at your coffee.”

He looked up to find Dean leaning against the counter at the nurses’ station. “Shouldn't you be cutting into someone's soft bits?”

His brother shrugged. “They don't let me do that to just anybody. Turns out it has to be someone scheduled for surgery. Mistake you don't make twice, let me tell you.”

Sam sighed at him. “Please tell me you would never joke like that in front of a patient or another lawyer.”

His coffee was stolen from his hands. “Come here, sweetheart. Sammy doesn't appreciate you like I do.” 

“I licked the cup.”

Dean took a gulp and smiled. “Mm. Vanilla with a splash of brother cooties. Tasty.”

“I don't like you.”

“So? Why are you bitchy today, brother of mine? Is it because you stayed up all night wrist-deep in a chest cavity? Wait. That was me. You're the one who was deep in a hematologist. Or...Sam, are you the top or the-”

“Oh, for Christ’s...Dean, I'm not talking to you about anything. Ever.” 

“What, no lecture about-”

“And another thing!”

Dean nodded, and sipped at the coffee. “Here it is.” 

“Unless you want this to become a case for the ethics committee, you need to shut up about the whole thing!” he hissed. “There's a very clear conflict of interest here! So shut the hell up.”

His brother gave a low whistle. “Wow. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the vampire doctor this morning.” 

“God, I don't sleep with him! Are you kidding? He'd probably be a control freak in his sleep too!”

Dean's eyebrow raised. “You've never slept with him?” 

“Why would I do that?”

“Same reason you, you know, sleep with him.” 

Sam snorted. “That's ridiculous. He's the most arrogant doctor I’ve ever met, and you’re all arrogant jerks.”

The older man nodded. “Wow. You just insulted an entire field of professions. And knowing how you feel about most nurses, I’d say you’re biased against the entire medical community. We’ll remember that next time you dislocate your shoulder. Once you’ve been black-balled, no one would dare treat you for fear of being shunt. I’d have to pretend you were dead.” 

“I repeal my earlier statement. You are still the biggest jerk I know.”

“Thank you.”

Sam slumped against the counter with a heavy sigh. “I’m not asking for much, you know? I want a guy who has a little sensitivity, but isn’t clingy. Someone who gets my humor but knows when to get serious. Someone who isn’t full of himself, even when he’s full of me.”

Dean snapped his fingers. “I knew you were a top!”

He shrugged moodily and grabbed his coffee back. “It’s a misconception that we’re all either one or another. Most of us switch, depending on the situation and the partner.”

“Sounds complicated.” 

“Shower sex is complicated.”

“Yes, it is,” Dean agreed. He pushed himself away from the counter. “Okay. I’m going to bleach my brain of all images of brother sex, and scrub for an observation.” 

Sam’s mind snapped back to work. “You being observed?”

“No. I’m observing. I’ll be behind glass for Garth’s thyroid cut.” 

“Why do you have to scrub if you’re going to be behind-” 

Dean snorted. “Because I need to be ready to take over, in case he Garths an old lady’s jugular or esophagus. Kid’s good but he’s got too much nervous energy. Makes me nervous.” 

Hazel eyes closed. “Dean, please don’t bring me a lawsuit today. Seriously. I’ll Garth you both.”

He received a wink on Dean’s way out to the surgery ward.

The clocks on every wall around him all reported that he had only taken a five minute coffee break, considering that he’d had his assistant deliver it. He walked slowly back to his office. He didn’t want to take the chance of running into Zachariah by going the direct route. Today was not the day for dealing with middle management. Really, there was no good day for that. So he went the long way around to his office, and that took him by the hematology lab. It was physically impossible to keep his head down as he passed through.

All he could see of Castiel was his back-and what an impressive back it was-as he worked on a sample. His colleague Lenore was nodding at something he was saying, then she turned to see Sam watching. “Hey, Mr. Winchester! You need anything?”

His face filled with heat, and he shook his head. He hurried to keep walking. Irritation burned through him as much as embarrassment.

Castiel had not even looked up at his name.

*** 

Dr. Sermír swallowed hard. He kept his eyes steady on his work until he heard the steps carrying Sam Winchester away. Then he sighed a little. “Will you please add these to the log? I-I’m getting a migraine, and I need to take something now or I’ll be useless later today.” 

Dr. Khafash nodded. “Sure. I’m ahead of schedule. Let me help you knock out these.” 

He smiled weakly, and stepped away from the table. Weariness was setting in, from deep inside. One look into his small personal locker revealed a disappointing lack of painkiller. “Lenore, I’ll be back directly. If Eli comes in with my new tray, please have him begin the labels. And if Al or The Old Man come in...Just tell them I’ll be back in a moment.”

“You worry too much, Cas. You’re more efficient than any hematologist who ever worked here. Everyone likes seeing you on the schedule.”

“Not Tom.” 

She snorted. “Well, nobody likes seeing The Old Man at all. So don’t worry. Al knows you’re good, and he’s the only one who matters. Tom can suck it. You’re allowed to leave the lab occasionally, Cas. You’re always so worried about the admins.” 

“I simply want to do good work, and I worry sometimes that Al doesn’t...Tom would replace me if he could. And I’m happy here. I worked hard to get this position. Dr. Lafitte would take me back at Pureté Memorial, but this was a step up for me and my research. It seems Tom only sees me as a temporary annoyance, till he can convince someone like Dr. Lafitte or Dr. Kormos to join the team here. His first words to me on my first day were ‘Well, you’re no Benny Lafitte or Andrea Kormos, but we’ll make do, won’t we?’ That doesn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence.” 

“You’re better than Dr. Kormos. I worked with her for a while, and she’s a bitch. And she’s Dr. Lafitte’s ex-wife, which makes it even weirder at conferences. I’m glad you’re here, Cas. Al hired you because he wanted you, not as a temporary fill. And Tom’s got no authority in Al’s office. You’re one of the best in the field, and your research is impressive. So go take a break, and stop worrying someone is going to catch you taking a break.” She smirked. “I’m the senior here. And I say get out of the lab for twenty minutes.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be back in ten. I just need... Anyway, thank you.” 

Lenore went back to work without another word.

Castiel sighed as he wandered wearily out to the nurse’s station. The hematology staff joked that “Tom” stood for The Old Man, because the admin had been there longer than anyone could remember. He had clearly reached the end of his career ladder, and was bitter about it. He had bet on the wrong horse when both Andrea Kormos and Castiel had applied for the opening at the hospital. Al was a respected veteran medical scientist, who oversaw the hematology lab, the forensics department, and any experiments involving blood and lymphology. In keeping with tradition, Al had received a nickname years back. He was the Alpha Vampire, according to the nurses like Eli who assisted with the hematology department. But Castiel found that to be disrespectful. He didn’t mind calling Tom The Old Man, but he wouldn’t call Dr. Al Merite the Alpha Vampire. That was just a little too much.

“What’s the matter, Angel?” 

He looked up. “Hello, Meg.” 

She smirked at him. “You ever sleep? You look like you’re an escapee from Dr. Satine’s department.”

Castiel rubbed his eyes. “I don’t. I mean, I sleep. I don’t look like I belong in Lucien’s morgue.”

“Whatcha doing here, Cas? You’re usually locked away in your glass cave.” 

“I wanted to speak with Casey.” 

Meg’s sharp eyes watched him, but her smile remained. “Yeah? Casey’s out helping Father Gil make his rounds. I’ll be happy to help you with anything you need, Angel.”

He cleared his throat. He wished she wouldn’t call him that. He could never be sure if it was meant kindly or sarcastically, and either way, he was a little worried it might be a flirtation. “That’s-that’s all right. I’ll just…”

“See the pharmacist?” 

Castiel forced an awkward smile. “No. Of course not.”

“If you need something, Doctor, I can help you. Unless you’d rather not tell me what it is you need. Or...that you need it.” 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I assure you that there’s nothing I need. But thank you, Nurse.” He turned to leave the area, but she called out to him, and he looked back in time to catch a small plastic package being thrown at him. He frowned down at it. 

“It'll take the edge off, Angel. Next time you need something, come to me. Casey isn't going to have access to anything stronger than that. I've already talked to the pharmacist. Maybe you should talk to one of the surgeons.”

Castiel gripped the painkiller in his hands too tightly. “Thank you,” he ground out. 

Humiliation surged through him as he stormed to the common break room. His hands were shaking as he poured himself a mug of water. He tried to rip into the package, but finally had to resort to the pair of scissors in the utility drawer. At last, he was able to swallow the pills that would never be strong enough, but which would keep him functioning through the rest of his shift.

He closed his eyes and stood against the counter for a minute to collect himself. His mind wandered back to that morning, when he had gotten off night shift, and had met Sam Winchester for a rendezvous before another long shift. Sam had been his usual sarcastic, impossible self, but he had also been the only true balm for Castiel's pain. It was just as well that Sam was so infuriatingly non-committal. Castiel had too many other things to worry about. He was just glad the man could, as Meg put it, take the edge off for a little while.

Sam was an enigma, and that was fine. Castiel had enough puzzles to work out in his life. He didn't need the added stress of swimming through layers of complexity, especially since he didn't even like the surface layer all that much. Sam was a smartass. He was conceited. He was angry. Castiel didn't have the energy for that.

He didn't have the luxury of a relationship. What he had with Sam was mutual relief from their frustrations. Benefits without the friendship. It was better this way.

Castiel closed his eyes as another wave of pain struck, and with it, that creeping, stinging feeling. He had mastered the ability to withstand the pain without flinching outwardly. He didn't bother when he was alone. But here in the break room, someone could walk in at any moment. The most he allowed was a tiny intake of breath and a light sigh. To anyone else, the severe pain would look like a bit of a headache, perhaps.

Sometimes he distracted himself from it by thinking of Sam Winchester. He nearly felt guilty doing so, considering how much Sam seemed to loathe him. But it was the only thing that could even remotely distract him when the pain was at its worst.

The man was gorgeous. Keeping healthy in a hospital setting was ironically very difficult. But Sam clearly used the gym downstairs regularly. He was a paragon of strength and stamina.

Castiel smiled to himself weakly. Sam was unequivocally the best lover he had ever had. Not that there were many in his past, but a few. And Sam eclipsed them all. The pain was so intense sometimes that he couldn't get off himself, and in those cases, he simply threw himself into Sam's pleasure, and he felt as satisfied after as if he had climaxed himself. Just being with Sam was a painkiller like none he had ever known.

Castiel sighed and headed back to the lab, thinking it was too bad Sam was such an arrogant jackass outside of bed. Not that Castiel wanted anything more.


	2. The Arrangement

It had been days. No text from Castiel. Sam hated how often he was checking his phone.

Naomi’s eyebrow was lifted when he looked up again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I'm sorry. What?”

“We were beginning to discuss the annual evaluations.”

“Yeah, right. I know.” God, was it that time already? He could swear he had just completed his last share of a fourth of the staff. Had that really been three months ago? “Who is on my docket this quarter?”

“The labs will be audited for breaches by me and their managers, as always. You will audit the HIPAA files and the internists in Tier Two. And Zachariah will audit the maintenance staff and kitchens.” 

Nothing unusual about that. “Any special cases?” he probed carefully.

She took a breath and smiled tightly. “Let's hope not. But if I were you, I might be expertly thorough in my audit of Dr. Benton’s practices. It's come up more than once that he is treading in the ethical gray with end of life cases, and I would rather find out in an audit if he's breaching any family consent laws, than to find out after a suit has been filed against him.” 

“That's what the self-audits are about,” Sam sighed. “So we can correct things before a mistake is made.” 

Naomi gathered her things and stood. “Yes. That, and so that I know who to fire before they cost us more money than they're worth. Good night, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam stared after her wearily. Then he leaned back in his chair with a renewed sigh. He actually startled when his phone buzzed on the table.

A tickle of excitement thrilled through him, and he practically shivered with it.

The text was always curt, to the point. “Please let me know if you are available for tonight.” 

Part of him was annoyed by the presumption that Sam was willing, if he was available. But the rest of him had been up late every night this week reading the new bioethics legislation as well as the insurance fraud policies that were going into effect in January, and he really wanted to get laid. He was stubborn and proud, but he knew not to be coy.

Still, he made himself wait a few minutes before responding. There was no need for Castiel to know he had been waiting by his phone. 

He smiled a little as he remembered the first time he had seen the sexy, brooding lab physician. It was at an orientation for new employees of the hospital, in which Human Resources went over benefits, and then Sam separated out the medical staff to discuss the hospital’s policies regarding health law and workplace expectations. It was dry stuff, and these were all veteran doctors and nurses, so they had heard these things before, some of them many times. But he had noticed an intense pair of blue eyes, and hands scribbling every word onto his notebook. During the workplace safety video, Sam had finally caught the overachiever daydreaming. 

Specifically, he had caught the man watching him. 

When their eyes had met, the doctor had quickly looked away, and resumed his careful concentration on the orientation. Sam had snickered to himself. 

It wasn't until they took a ten minute break, and the new staff wearily stumbled out for coffee, that Sam actually spoke directly to the handsome man. “Hey,” he murmured. “Hematology, right?” 

The man had been resting with his eyes closed, and Sam thought there had been a bit of a cringe when he had spoken. But the doctor had turned to nod at him. “Yes. I'm Castiel. From Memorial.”

“My brother has a buddy in the lab over there. Lafitte?” 

For the first time all day, Castiel gave the ghost of a smile. “Benny. Yes. He's the best I've ever worked with. And a good man.”

“Well, welcome aboard, Cas-How do you say it?” 

“Cas is fine. It's Castiel. But I often go by Cas.”

The guy was weird. No doubt. But interesting too. “There's a…” He laughed a little. “We call it a pre-retirement party. About every six months, we rope off the cafe for a night, and everyone who isn't retired is invited to come have some drinks and bemoan the fact that they're still working. We don't generally tell new employees that. It makes it sound like we don't like it here. But it's a joke. Stress break. An old mentor started the tradition when he had to retire and we threw him a party, said it was the ones still working who needed the parties, not him.” He was rambling while staring into the man’s eyes. He took a breath to control the momentum. “Anyway, it's Friday night in the cafe. Around ten. If you-”

“I probably won't attend. I keep to myself.”

The response was so abrupt that Sam actually took a step back. “Oh,” he said stupidly. “Okay. Just a…”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

Sam had walked away at the dismissal, and had been a little shaken as it came time to start the orientation again. Fortunately, it was just to introduce Naomi as the frightening admin who now held their lives in her claws, and then he could step out of the conference room and return to his office. He took a glance back, and saw Castiel watching him with an unreadable expression. 

The conceited bastard had shown up at the cafe just before midnight on Friday. 

By then, Sam was already well into his own homemade punch.

“Sammy? Why are you glaring at that new guy?”

He frowned and looked at his brother. “That's Cas. New hematomitrist.”

“Hematologist,” Dean had snickered. “How many have you had?” 

“I never had one before,” Sam muttered. “I wanted that one, but he shot me down.”

The surgeon had stared at Sam for a moment, then looked back at the awkward man in the doorway. “Oh. Is he gay?” 

Sam simply rolled his eyes. “I wouldn't know. Or care.” He straightened. “In fact, I'm going to go tell him right now.”

Dean grabbed his elbow. “Dude. Tell him what?”

“That I don't care if he is gay.”

“I don't think he thinks you care.”

Sam threw his hands up. “That's why I have to tell him I don't!” 

“So...you do.” 

“What part of this is difficult to understand?”

“The part where my drunk kid brother is going to go tell someone he doesn't know, at a company social, that he doesn't care that our new hematomitrist is possibly gay.” 

Sam sighed. “I used to think you had to be smart to be a doctor.”

“I'm a surgeon. It's different.”

“That explains a lot.” 

Dean's eyes narrowed with amusement. “Okay. Go. Try not to get punched, kiddo.”

“I made the punch,” he said in a way that made it clear he thought his big brother was an idiot. Then he sauntered across the room to where Castiel still seemed to be debating whether he wanted to enter. 

“Mr. Winchester,” he said with a touch of surprise. “I hadn't seen you-”

“It's Sam. And look. I don't care if you're gay or not. I'm not looking for a relationship.”

The blue eyes shot wide open. “I'm-Yes, I'm not either-”

“So if that's what you thought I was thinking, you're wrong.” He began to laugh. “You're completely wrong.”

Castiel stared at him hard. “What does that mean?” His head tipped strangely on his neck, and Sam felt himself mimicking the movement without meaning to. “Are you...are you suggesting…”

“Not a relationship,” he scoffed. “Because I'm definitely not looking for that. But you're into me. I can tell.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes, well, that's...I think you're attractive, but-” 

Sam didn't want to know the rest. “See? I knew it. And I don't even care.”

“Are you, um, suggesting we…”

“I'm not suggesting anything! I'm just saying.”

“I'm not sure what you're saying. Sam, do you want to have sex with me?” 

“See? I knew it. You're-what?”

Castiel took a breath. “You're not saying that.”

“I didn't say anything.” Sam was suddenly entirely unsure what had just occurred. But he was pretty certain sex was on the table now. “But yes. Yes, I want to.”

A spark seemed to light in the doctor’s eyes, and he smiled a little. “No relationship? Just...that?”

Sam wasn't sure how this had happened. But he wasn't going to turn this down. “Okay. Deal. I'm not looking for a relationship. But that...could be fun.”

In less than ten minutes, the two large men were tearing into one another's clothing inside Sam's locked office. Sam still wasn't sure what this was. But it was definitely hot. He had never done anything like this before. And he still didn't like Castiel. But until he found someone he did like, this guy was a fantastic lover, and he knew he would never say no to a text.

But he would make Castiel wait for his yes.

***

Castiel sighed with relief when the answering text finally came through. He was always a little afraid that Sam was losing interest in their arrangement. After all, the attorney had been more than clear up front-painfully clear-that a real relationship was not in their future, and the longer they did this, the more it became like a real relationship. Or it would, if Sam would even look at him in public.

He had thought, after the first time, that Sam might come into the lab to say hello. But days went by, and still Sam walked right past. Castiel wanted to call out to him, but he realized that Sam might be closeted at work, and perhaps that was why he didn't want to be seen with the reserved but openly gay lab physician. Soon after, however, Nurse Ruby had said something about wishing Dean Winchester weren't so obnoxious and Sam Winchester weren't so gay, because she found them both attractive. Eli and Lenore had not even blinked at the notion that Sam was homosexual. So it wasn't that either.

No, Sam just didn't like him. Castiel had accepted that with a little confusion and a little hurt, and had let it go. He wouldn't push for a friendship with Sam. He didn't need that anyway, certainly not with that arrogant…

Castiel gripped his thigh hard when the pain shot through unexpectedly. When the severity faded, the creeping feeling began, and he winced. A thousand fire ants crawled under his skin on one leg, and a single pacing spider crept along his backbone. It took several minutes for the sensation to dampen. 

“Sam tonight,” he said aloud to no one. “Sam tonight.”

The words were a balm. 

He smiled shakily. “Sam tonight,” he whispered again. What would it be like to have Sam every night? Not that he would want that. Of course he didn't. But now and then, especially when the pain wouldn't let up, he indulged in a little fantasy. 

That first night together had been the most exciting, careless thing he had ever done. When Sam had approached him, he had been about to abort the entire idea of this hospital social. After all, there was a reason he had specialized in a field that kept him locked away nearly all day every day. He didn't do well with people. And this social, this pre-retirement tradition...well, it was beginning to look like it would involve having to talk to people. He wasn't even sure why he had come at all, except that he hadn't been able to sleep, and he was trying to talk himself out of taking another painkiller. 

Then there was Sam, right in front of him, and he was caught off-guard, and that was never a good place for Castiel to be in a social setting. On top of being incredibly good-looking, clearly brilliant, and intimidatingly confident, Sam was apparently also obnoxiously bold when he had been drinking. Before Castiel could figure out what Sam had meant about not caring if he was gay, he had gotten himself tangled into a no-strings-attached sexual experience. And that was surprisingly okay with him. 

Sam was delicious. His heart raced just at the thought of spending time with the man. He was the only painkiller that had ever truly worked.

There would be no Sam tomorrow morning. He would be on his own again by then. That was just as well. Castiel wasn't sure he was able to actually sleep with anyone else at this point. But he would have Sam tonight, and that was all he could have, but it was enough to see him through to another day.


	3. Projections

The doctor was a totally different man in bed. The moment he got up, he would be back to his cold, smug, closed-off persona. But until then…

Sam's heart pounded in reaction to the knock on his door. It was nearly embarrassing how Pavlovian it had become. Just knowing Castiel was behind the door made his blood rush.

He let his lover in, and immediately led him to the bedroom without even a word. There was no need for games between them. They both knew what they were there for.

Castiel watched him undress like he was drunk on it. It was one of Sam's favorite things about their encounters, the way Castiel didn't bother hiding how attracted to Sam he was. And that was part of why it was so confusing-and, okay, a little hurtful-when Castiel so completely ignored him in public.

Sam dismissed that thought. So this was what they could have. Good. That's all Sam wanted. He had plenty of friends. And apparently Castiel didn't need any, except maybe the other vampires in the lab. That made this whole thing easier, in fact. No pretending between them. He liked that. Even if it made what they did have a little empty.

But it didn't feel that way until it was over. For the time they spent touching, Sam could almost believe he was truly loved. That was the danger of all this. It was the part that made it sting so badly when it was over and Castiel returned to being...Castiel.

Especially nights like this. 

Sam was panting up at the ceiling in a foggy state of mind, and he realized Castiel was moving toward his clothes. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled right out. “Hey! What about you?”

Blue eyes flicked back at him.

It was the strangest of all the strange expressions he had caught on Castiel's face in the months they had been...whatever they were. It was almost like he had caught him between the lover and the doctor personas, interrupted a very calculated transition between the two. He stared.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Not this time.” The eyes lowered, and the man suddenly seemed to be struggling against something, in spite of perfect stillness.

“I don't get it!” Sam blurted out at last. “Half the time you come here, you don't even get off! So why do you bother?”

A frown was clouding his face now. “We can stop if you like. It isn't as though...We aren't even friends. You wouldn't be losing anything.” 

For the first time, Sam thought he had seen a flicker of regret in those lowered eyes, a softening of a hard exterior. He sat up and pulled the sheets into his lap. He was aware how stupid it was to feel exposed, but he couldn't help it. “Cas? I'm not saying we should stop,” he forced out. “I'm saying why do you come if you're not…”

“Going to come?” He huffed a laugh that wasn't a laugh at all. “I enjoy you. I enjoy what we do. That's enough.”

It sounded like a warning against asking further questions. But he was the lawyer in the room. Asking questions was what he did. Lab physicians answered questions. That's what Castiel did. “I just don't understand. You don't like me or my company. Every time we hook up, you've got to control everything-”

Castiel stood abruptly, and began to dress. “I apologize if I’m not-”

“That's not what I'm saying, man! I like what you do! Clearly! You got me off twice tonight. But every time I tried to reciprocate, you pushed that away. Maybe I'm doing something wrong, but some nights you're into it! If you're not, why did you text me?”

The doctor shook his head in silent frustration, and continued pulling on clothes. “Perhaps this should be our last meeting.”

Sam frowned severely. It was like he had just been slapped in the face. He was beginning to feel as though the air was too thin. “I don't get you at all. Just tell me why!”

Castiel turned and looked at him coldly. His pants were on, but powerful, bare shoulders squared with Sam's. “Because it's what I can have. And I like it. But if that's somehow both too much and not good enough for you, we can be finished.”

He caught his breath, then swallowed hard. “No, I...I don't want that. I'm sorry. I just don't understand what you're getting out of this, and-and that puts me on the defensive. I'm sorry.”

Slowly, he realized that Castiel was breathing shallowly too, that as soon as he had apologized, the blue gaze dropped again. That Castiel never seemed to meet his eyes except during sex. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't remember seeing Castiel meet anyone's eyes, unless he was discussing test results with another physician. Whenever someone caught his glance, he looked away. And the only time he heard the man speak up was about his job. He rarely left the lab at all as far as Sam knew. Castiel had been on staff for nine months, and no one seemed to know who he was at all.

“I don't know you,” he breathed out.

Castiel shuffled backward. “There isn't much to know,” he insisted with a frown. “I'm a lab physician.” 

Sam nodded slowly. “Is that really all you are?”

A spark of fear lit Castiel's eyes now. “I'm...I should go.”

Without his permission, Sam's hand reached out to take Castiel's. He watched the terror flash across his lover’s face, but he did not pull away. “Please. Cas, come on. Sit with me, okay? Like you said, we aren't even friends. What do you have to lose?”

***

Castiel stared down at his stolen hand. He felt a stab of humiliation when he heard his own deep voice fail. “This isn't what we are.” 

Sam shrugged at him. “So? I don't know what we are! I can't figure out anything having to do with you, especially what we are. And I'm starting to think maybe I'm missing out on the best part of you. Maybe...maybe you're not a smug asshole. Maybe you're just that shy.”

His eyes widened, and all his practice hiding pain washed away, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. “You-you thought that? That I'm smug?” He took a shuddered breath, and tried to laugh. “That I'm an asshole? Is that...is that what everyone thinks?”

His beautiful lover sighed, and his features softened. “God, Cas. What was I supposed to think? You don't even speak to me at work! You barely say anything when we're together. And you look so cold sometimes, like you're completely above everyone around you!” 

His chest tightened sharply. “I didn't know people saw me that way,” he whispered hoarsely. Tears welled in his eyes, and he cringed. At last, he yanked his hand back to rub at his eyes.

“Cas, I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong that I wanted to believe there was something wrong with you instead. If you don't like me, you don't like me. I shouldn't try to make you into a bad guy for that. I didn't realize I was doing that. I get...insecure, I guess.”

When he lifted his eyes to stare at Sam, a tear escaped and slid down his cheek. Mortified, he swiped at it with shaking fingers. “You?” he demanded. He laughed bitterly. “Sam Winchester? Golden Boy, Esquire? Brother of _That_ Dean?” 

Sam scowled. “ _That_ Dean,” he sighed, as though he had heard the phrase his whole life. 

Castiel shook his head. “You don't know what insecure is. You don't have any idea. Everyone loves you. You're the smartest man in every room, even in a hospital full of brilliant doctors. You walk through the halls like you own them and everyone in them! You’ve probably looked down your nose at guys like me your entire life!”

“Whoa!” Sam cried out. “Hold on!”

But now that the dam had burst, there was no point in rebuilding it. “You have no idea what it's like. So don't pretend you do. You thought I was a smug asshole. I guess maybe that's better than what I really am, which is just a hopelessly introverted nerd. You would never know what it's like to be-” 

“An awkward freak?” Sam snapped.

Castiel flinched. “That's what you see when you look at me? Then why-” 

“Not you. Me.” Sam took back Castiel's hand with determination. “And that's what we've both been doing. Projecting our insecurities. Assuming we know what the other is thinking. Cas? Do you actually want this sort of no-strings thing? Or would you rather it was more? Because…” He took a deep breath. “Because I'm looking for more.”

He let his lips part silently, until he found his voice. “But you said-”

“I lied.” 

Castiel smiled in disbelief. “Well, isn't that a bitch.” 

Sam burst into laughter, making Castiel redden and duck his head a little. “So is that a yes? Is that something we could do?”

“I don't know,” he breathed. “I'm not really very good at...anything, really.”

“You really thought I looked down my nose at you? Because that's exactly what I thought you were doing to me. I never mean to come across that way. I just have to have a confident professional demeanor.”

Castiel shrugged. He suddenly felt shy with this man he had been sleeping with for months. “That's all it is for me. I'm a good doctor. I'm not good at anything else, but I'm good in my lab. And so it's something I've got confidence in. But if I try to talk to anyone about anything else, I...Well, other than Lenore, and a few of the nurses, I just don't. For obvious reasons. The nurses call the lab my glass cave. I'm afraid to ask what my nickname is. More afraid I may not even have one.”

“Cas, I'm sorry I misjudged you. And I'm glad you're going to let me prove I'm not…” 

“A smug asshole?” He lifted his eyebrow. 

Sam smirked. “So...are we in a relationship now?”

He looked up and smiled softly. “I don't know,” he said again. “I guess we could try it. If you like.”

“Good. So now will you tell me?”

He blinked. “Tell you what?” 

“Cas? You still never said what you got out of being here. And if you thought I was a jerk, that makes even less sense.”

His pink tongue darted out to lick pink lips nervously. “You want to know why I come for sex if I'm not going to get off.” 

Those hazel gray eyes searched his face. “I mean, I can do something different, except I get the feeling that's not what it's about.”

Fear twisted his stomach without mercy. The stakes were suddenly far higher than before. He had a chance with Sam, and no matter how slim it seemed, he wanted it. His heart ached with how badly he wanted his chance. So lying to Sam was no way to start out a relationship that was already on a shaky foundation. But telling him didn't seem like his best move either.

“Please, Cas. Something is going on with you, and I'd like to know what. It isn't that you don't like sex, because you definitely do. So what is it?”

He gave him a weak smile. “We’re friends now. I've now got something to lose,” he explained. 

Sam sighed. “If we're going to be friends, Cas, or more, I need to know if something is wrong. And you already know I'm insecure. I'll assume it's me if you don't tell me. If it is me, say so. And if it isn't...please say so.” 

It occurred to him that Sam had been the one to begin talking. He had taken a risk, and opened their relationship wider, all because he didn't want to be the only one benefiting from their arrangement. So the least Castiel could do was respond to a perfectly understandable question. 

“Cas?”

He sighed in defeat, and nodded.


	4. Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (For honorreid, the cameo inclusion of Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars, toward the end of the chapter.)

Sam had offered coffee, but his lover had shaken his head with lowered eyes. Then he had looked up, as if he had realized he should speak. “I don't do caffeine unless I have to. But water would be…”

He fetched a glass for Castiel and set the coffee machine for himself. Then he sat on the couch.

Castiel's gaze flitted about the room, even once toward the exit, Sam noticed, and finally, he sat gingerly on the same couch, as far from Sam as he could get.

Now that Sam was seeing him in a new light, he couldn't help thinking the man was incredibly adorable. How had he not seen that before?

“So...you know what hematology is.”

“Study of blood.”

“Right. But...It's a specialty that is needed everywhere there are people, right? And especially in areas that have high poverty and low physician to patient ratios, a lot of doctors don't have the luxury of specializing. In some places, the local doctor is also the veterinarian, the pharmacist, and everything else besides. That's where volunteers come in to help ease the burden.”

“Like Doctors Without Borders.”

Castiel gave him a small smile. “Exactly. Or Peace Corps or many others. But I'm a physician for Doctors Without Borders.”

Warmth filled him at the news. He smiled happily. “My brother has considered that. And that old mentor I told you about, the one who had to retire. Dr. Singer. He does disaster relief logistics for them now. Happier than he's ever been, out telling everyone how things should be done, without so much red tape.” 

“Well, there's plenty of that too, and lots of egos, but at the end of the day, we’re all doing truly good work. It's the kind of work that reminds you why you went to medical school in the first place. And I'll never regret doing it, not for an instant.”

A sense of dread was clouding over Sam's delight at finding out Castiel was one of the angels who put his life on hold and in danger to help others. “What happened?” he breathed. 

The man was trying to smile. “An infection. Had nothing at all to do with my work, only the location of it. I'm meticulous in the lab. But when you're off duty, you don't tend to wear your mask out in the village or town. And suddenly I was fighting off a fungal meningitis.” 

Sam cringed. “That could have killed you.”

Castiel nodded. “I was lucky. Though that's hard to say, when it's as rare a condition as it is. The most common way to get the condition I've got is during a sanitary breach or trauma during a surgery. In a hospital. But I'm just walking through town in a remote area, and I managed to breathe in just the right type of spores. So I'm alive. And I'm grateful for that.”

“But?”

“I was left with a condition that...It's called arachnoiditis.”

“A fear of spiders?” Sam heard it fall out of his mouth, and he immediately flushed red. “No, that's...that's not the same thing.” 

But it produced a sincere smile on Castiel's handsome face, maybe the first true smile he had seen yet. “No. It's not. But I admit to enjoying that one of the smartest men I've ever met made that mistake.” 

Sam's face was feverishly hot, but he laughed a little too. “So what is it?”

“It's a condition that affects the membrane that's meant to protect the brain and spinal cord, and nerve roots. The scarring and fibrosis causes abnormal adhesion of the nerve roots to one another and to the dural sac, and the arach…” He looked up from his hands to find Sam struggling to follow. “I'm sorry. I've only ever discussed it with other physicians. My physicians. No one at our facility knows about it. I still travel back to Memorial when I need to.” 

He frowned. “Wait. You've never told anyone about this?”

“No.”

Sam began to ask about family or friends, but it came to him then that Castiel would have mentioned them if he had them. It made his heart ache. “So what does it…”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Pain,” he said simply. “Constant pain, in my back and legs, mostly. And…” He snorted softly. “And it isn't entirely unrelated to your first guess. A few times every hour, I'll feel as though a spider is crawling over my skin, and once or twice a day, I get this burning feeling that I think of as fire ants on my legs.” 

“That's terrible!”

He shook his head. “I can handle that. The part that…” Castiel looked up at Sam's eyes, as if wondering if he could truly trust Sam with this information. He licked at his lips, then continued in a low voice. “The part that-that scares me is that now and then, maybe once a week or more, I'll suddenly feel numb. Like I know I can control my muscles, and I can walk just fine. But I can't feel it. Just for a minute or two. And if I'm sitting when it happens, I can't make myself stand because...because I'm so afraid…”

“You're afraid you won't be able to.” Sam's voice seemed to come directly from his breaking heart.

He nodded. “It's psychological. I know it is. But that doesn't make it less terrifying.”

“And the pain. You feel it all the time?”

“Always.” Castiel looked exhausted now. He smiled wearily. “And I didn't handle it well at first. There's no cure. There's no real treatment, other than pain management. So I managed my own pain. And now I attend a group twice a week specifically for members of the medical community who fight addiction. Alcohol is most common. But second to that is painkillers. Benny Lafitte, your brother's friend-”

“He's an alcoholic,” Sam sighed. 

“It's amazing how many of us there are in this field. The stress on personal relationships, the demands on our time and energy, and the way we tend not to go to our own physicians until it's far past too late, because we think we can manage it all ourselves. We aren't allowed to be sick. It's weakness. A doctor who gets sick isn't a good enough doctor, and isn't strong enough to be a doctor at all. So we hide, and we deal, and we know better, but we make all the same mistakes the public makes, except that we know we're making them.” He shrugged. “Benny recognized that I was struggling with something. He didn't ask what. Just asked if I would come to a meeting with him, as part of his program. And I've been going ever since. I'm addicted to painkillers. And when I'm under a lot of stress, I find it hard to-to stay clean of them. I even approached one of the nurses, at General, and she got some for me from the pharmacist. I brought them to my meeting that night, handed them to Benny.” 

Sam took Castiel's hand without a word.

The physician watched their entangled fingers, then smiled shakily. “The only other time I gave in and went to see if that nurse could get hold of more, I ran into Meg Masters instead. She knew what I was looking for, and she told me I wouldn't find it. I'm lucky she didn't report me. If I lost my job over this...I just don't know what I'd do. Especially if I'd been called into your office. I might've taken the roof exit instead of face that.” He looked up at Sam with sad eyes. “It won't happen again. I can promise that. I’ve checked in with Benny every day since talking to Meg. Like I used to in the beginning, I call Benny every day. My job means too much to me. My research, my lab and colleagues like Lenore...and your opinion of me. I promise I won't allow it to happen again.” 

He took a breath, and carefully worded his support. “Cas, I appreciate that. But this isn't a confessional, and I'm not your lawyer right now. I'm your friend. Remember? Go on.”

The encouragement seemed to settle in, and relief splashed over Castiel's features. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Anyway, it's all just to say that...some nights, with you, I just can't. The pain is too much. Some people with this condition have far worse situations, spasms or lack of control. For me, it's just about the pain and sensations. Without narcotics, I don't have much hope of managing the pain. And with narcotics, I can't work. And my work is everything to me. I'll muscle through the pain, for as many years as the hospital will keep me on, for as long as my work and research are worthwhile. And lately, I've found myself thinking that if I could just be with you more, if it could be easy with you…” He laughed as tears sparkled in his eyes again. “If you didn't hate me so much, maybe I could actually live like a normal person for a while.” 

“Hate you,” Sam cried. “God, Cas, I'm so sorry! I look back on these months, and I realize I was just frustrated.”

“Me too,” Castiel agreed. “And I'm very, very bad at talking to people. And I didn't want this to end. If it was all I could have of you, I wanted it, and I told myself I didn't need anything more.” He laughed again, a little brighter this time. “I told myself you were probably high-maintenance.”

Sam scowled at him. “Well, you were probably a control freak,” he teased.

“And I suspected you might be a bit of a drama queen.”

“Me? You were the insensitive diva.” 

They shared a laugh. 

“Cas? We never kissed much. It was like you were Vivian Ward and I was every guy but Edward Lewis.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I don't understand that reference.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You were probably busy learning the difference between a spider and a spinal membrane when Pretty Woman came out.” He reached up to touch Castiel's cheek gently. “May I kiss you now?” 

The way Castiel took in a shaky breath made Sam's heart fill with affection. 

*** 

He wasn't going to be able to sleep with Sam. That was evident after just twenty minutes of jostling. But Sam said over and over that it was all right, that they could make it work anyway. Heaven help him, but Castiel believed him. 

The qualities he had disliked in Sam were coming into focus now in a whole new light. The conceit was determination. The stubbornness was unflagging optimism. The bitter sarcasm was quick-witted humor. The brutally sharp gazes were thoughtful sensitivity and concern. The judgmental intensity was just genuine interest. The bluntness was honesty. The qualities he had liked all along, like the intelligence and good looks, had made it easy to miss the uncertainty and insecurity. And the passive-aggressiveness he had sensed from the beginning was now obviously Sam's instinct-understandable, however misguided-to defend himself from being hurt by a man he couldn't decipher. 

It was the same Sam as it had been for the last few months. He could only hope that Sam was seeing him in a more favorable, less stark light too. Castiel was aware he had a number of troubling flaws. But Sam seemed to be intrigued, at least for the moment. 

“You're smiling,” Sam commented quietly. “I like it.”

Castiel took a deep breath, and sighed it out happily. “I do too.”

Sam turned onto his side and watched him. “It's like I'm with a totally different man.”

“Same as always. Just...a little more...my real self,” he mumbled.

“I like your real self.” 

“I like myself better when I'm with you too.”

Sam kept kissing him. He didn't know what to think about that, but it was nice. He touched their lips again now. 

“Why doesn't your brother try Doctors Without Borders?” 

“Oh,” Sam laughed. “He can't fly.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Most humans can't.”

Sam began to giggle, which was probably the most attractive thing Castiel had ever seen this six foot four, two hundred pound man do. “No, really. He can't get on a plane. He does some pro bono stuff sometimes, when a charity requests something. But getting the liability coverage and whatnot...it's a hassle. It's best to just let the hospital decide how to take on cases like that. General does a lot of charity work.” 

“That's one of the things that impressed me. Why I applied. I also like…” He shrugged a bit shyly. “I don't tell anyone about this, but I sometimes put in pro bono clinic hours just because I can't sleep. Last time we were together, I had just done a third shift in the clinic, then worked my usual day shift after a few hours with you. At Memorial, we couldn't just wander into the clinic across the street and offer to help out. Here, the clinic is part of the hospital, and they always seem happy to have me.”

“Of course they are.” Sam shook his head. “But you can't stay awake forever.” 

He cringed minutely. “Sam, I'm sorry. I really won't be able to sleep with you. I move too much, and I have to be able to get up-” 

“Shh. That's not what I mean. I told you. I understand, and we’ll work around that. To be honest, I like my space while I'm sleeping too. We don't have to solve every challenge right now. And you're not going to be the source of every challenge. Maybe you'll hate how much I hang out with my brother. Maybe you'll hate my brother.” 

A small chuckle escaped. “Maybe.”

“See? I'm excited about this. I like you, Cas, now that we've given one another a chance to be ourselves. Now that we've relaxed. Little challenges will come up, but I'm willing to bet it'll be worth it to get through them together.” 

An unfamiliar flourish of hope spread through him. “You think so? Sam, I don't really have much to offer a man like you. It's why I never thought I had a chance at anything real with you.” 

“Will you offer me you?” 

In that moment, Castiel knew he would never deny anything to this man. He nodded. “For what it's worth, I will give you everything I am. No matter what you want to give, I promise it's what I want. No matter what you want to be to me. I'll give you everything.” 

“You've been lonely a long time, Castiel. I recognize it, because I've been lonely too long. And you've been hurting in secret for too long. You're like a mirror, reflecting me. So if you'll push through the hurt, I'll push through the fear, and we'll burn through this wall we both build up to protect us from the rest of the world. We've been lonely too long. We've seen the worst in one another. We lied to one another and to ourselves. The hard part is over. It can only go uphill from here.”

“Downhill.”

“What?” 

He couldn't dampen his own smile. “Uphill is harder. Going downhill is easy, and you can pick up momentum, and-” 

Sam cut him off with a kiss, and he was all right with that.


	5. The Telenovela

It wasn't like Sam to feel this nervous about his job. He was good at what he did. He knew health law like no one he had ever encountered. He listened to CSPAN on podcast when he jogged in the morning, and read the latest court decisions regarding anything remotely related to his field while he worked out in the evenings. Every document the hospital put out for any reason became his breakfast reading. And he consumed the medical staff logs with his lunch at his desk. There were many things in life Sam was less than confident about. His job wasn't one of them.

On the other hand? Naomi was a scary bitch. And he had never been entirely certain if she liked him or not. She respected him, and trusted his work. But that wasn't the same thing.

Her perfectly manicured hands were folded in front of her on the desk between them, and her perfectly manicured eyebrows were frowning at him.

It was psychological, and he knew it, but he wished he were in his office instead, as they usually were when they met. He wanted to be the one in the office chair, behind his desk, on his turf, for this discussion. In the conference chair, his height advantage was just awkward, not a source of strength. And there was nowhere to put his own hands, except in his lap, which made him feel like he was apologizing. Which he wasn't. He had read through every word of the hospital policies. He was the one who taught that sort of thing to the new staff, and answered questions about it when it came up. He knew he had done nothing wrong. 

But that wasn't how it felt when he had to explain himself to Naomi. 

She gestured for him to continue.

Sam took a breath. He had thought through his words that morning in the shower. It was simple enough. He had said what he needed to say. “As per the company policies, I'm making you aware of a personal relationship between myself and a member of the medical staff, and am requesting that any future audits, cases or personnel reviews regarding the hematology department be handled by another attorney, or jointly between myself and a hospital administrator, to avoid any misunderstandings or perceived conflicts, related to ethics.” He had already said all this. But Naomi kept looking at him as though he wasn't finished, so he found himself rambling it all again. 

Naomi cleared her throat. “Was there something else?”

He stared at her. “Um, no. I just needed to...to go on record so...I just needed to make you aware…”

She sighed impatiently. “Mr. Winchester, there's no one left in the building who isn't aware that you're sleeping with Dr. Sermír in hematology.”

His breath stopped completely. 

“Why do you think I continue to audit the labs myself? We had decided almost a year ago that, by now, I would delegate that particular lab to you, and yet I haven't done so. Instead, I gave you-” 

“The HIPAA files.”

“Exactly.” She smirked at him now. “More than a good deal for me. I hope your vampire is worth that exchange.” 

He sighed. “Yes, ma’am,” he groaned.

She nodded. “Anything else?”

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good. See that I get an update on Dr. Benton before the end of the workday. And just in case, please prepare termination paperwork for him by the week’s end. The man is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stumbled to his feet and to the door.

“And, Sam?”

“Yes?”

She nodded at him with a softer smile than he usually saw on her face. “I'm happy for you. He's a good man. I was part of his hiring team, and it was obvious to me that all he wants in the world is to help people. It's refreshing. Some days...some days we forget that's why we're here. It's good to find men like you, and your brother, and Castiel Sermír, who never forget what the mission truly is.”

*** 

It was a particularly bad day for pain, but Castiel pushed through it with a new determination. The whole world seemed more colorful, more hopeful. Lenore had commented on his smile twice that morning.

He was in the break room retrieving his lunch when he felt someone lurking nearby. He turned slowly to find Dean Winchester standing entirely too close to him. “Doc-Doctor?” he stammered. “Did you need-”

A heavy arm draped around his shoulder, and he found himself being led to the small table and sat down. Dean did not sit down. He loomed over Castiel like a teacher who was about to scold a student.

“Is there something wrong-”

“So you're screwing my brother.”

His eyes widened. “I don't think-Yes, I'm sleeping-Sam and I have entered into a-”

“Yeah, I'm aware you two are entering each other,” Dean snapped.

Castiel frowned. 

“Are you aware he's way out of your league?”

“Absolutely,” Castiel breathed miserably, and without hesitation. 

Dean began to smirk. “Wow. We’re going to have to work on your confidence level. Sam is going to eat you alive, buddy.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I'll have you know that Sam considered me to be cold and conceited before this week.”

“And now he knows what the rest of us could tell just looking at you, which is that you're hopeless for my kid brother, and he's got you wrapped so tight you can't walk out of your lab without looking for him like a lost puppy.”

He swallowed hard. “How-”

“I've got spies in the nurse stations, and, you know, everywhere else. Mostly everyone has made you and Sam their real-time Dr. Sexy telenovela, and have been watching the tension play out for months. Sam's assistant Andy Gallagher gives me updates during long surgeries if something important happens. Shifts get boring, and everyone enjoys a slow-burn workplace rom-com.”

His mouth dropped lower with each statement, until he finally clamped it shut.

“So-”

“Rom-com?” 

“Romantic comedy, dude. How do you not know that?” 

“I was busy learning the difference between a webby membrane protecting nerve roots and a joint-legged arthropod of the subphylum Chelicerata.” 

It was Dean's turn to narrow his gaze. Then he nodded slowly. “That would be the last piece of the puzzle, then.”

“What?”

“Arachnoid versus arachnid. I went to school too, dumbass. Why does everyone assume surgeons just play with knives in medical school? It's that damn Scrubs show, isn't it?” 

Castiel blinked. “I literally have no idea what we're talking about now.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “So I'm buddies with Meg Masters. And by buddies, I mean I take her money in poker, and she kicks my ass in drinking games.”

He froze as a cold fear filled him. 

“Relax, dude. She didn't give you up. She likes you. Calls you Angel. You should hear what she calls me and Sam.”

“Moose and Squirrel,” he said without thinking.

Dean scowled. “Yeah, well, the surgeons call her Demon Meg, so-Anyway, I did some research, and I couldn't figure it, since I didn't know exactly what you got bothering you, but I had it narrowed to a couple of things. Arachnoiditis, then.”

He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and he hated it. “I don't...Why are you…”

“Meg says she told you that you should chat with a surgeon. I'm a surgeon.” At last, he sat across from the man and looked serious. “Consider this your consultation.”

“But there aren't any surgical options-” 

An eyebrow shot up. “Oh? You know my field better than I do? I guess because I got blood in me, I know hematology as well as you do, right? Freaking vampire. Shut up and let somebody else be the expert on something for a minute.” 

Castiel closed his mouth. 

“Thank you. So let's talk about this fun little two or three hour adventure I like to call inserting an intrathecal pump, which delivers a small dose of medication directly to your spine via catheter. Fun for me. You get to sleep through the whole thing.” 

His heart began to pound in his chest, and he shook his head. “But...but Dr. Creaser over at Memorial told me-” 

“Who? Martin Creaser?” Dean waved that away. “He's two slices short of a pie. Can't believe Memorial still lets him operate.”

It was like a window had been thrown open. Or possibly Pandora’s hope chest. Suddenly, he was staring at Dean with an open look of pleading. “Really? I-I never got a second opinion. Just tried to manage it as well as I could. They say surgery to try to correct it isn't viable. It can make things worse because of the way the nerve roots are fused…”

The green eyes softened. “This isn't a cure.” 

“There is no cure,” Castiel said hollowly. “I know that. But if I could…” Humiliation flushed his face red, and his voice dropped even quieter. This felt like a defeat. “If I could just get a little relief from the symptoms, I'd be...very grateful.”

Dean nodded. “I'll do my homework on it. You know, a lot of people who have this condition, they're on disability. You even log extra hours at the clinic, according to a buddy of mine who works there.”

Castiel smiled weakly. “You have buddies everywhere, don't you?”

“Yeah. And so do you. You just don't seem to know it. And my kid brother is falling in love with you, so get used to it. Once you're family, you're family. So I'm going to see what we can do to make your life a little easier. You're a good guy. Demon Meg calls you Angel. You deserve better than Martin Creaser. And I'm better.”

He laughed, and ducked his head a bit. “I deserve you but not your brother?” 

Dean stood and shrugged. “Something like that. Welcome to the family. I'll contact you when I've done my research on use of this procedure for your situation.”

“Thank you, Dr. Winchester.”

“Dude,” he called over his shoulder. “You're screwing my brother. Might as well call me Dean.”

Warmth filled Castiel's face again, but also his heart. He smiled to himself, and for just a minute, he let himself bask in the hope.


	6. Wayward Recluse...

For a man who had no experience being cared for, Castiel found Sam's attentions overwhelming. “Sam, please.” His voice was hoarse, and it sounded even more pitiful than he thought it would.

The large man had been retrieving another blanket with which to smother Castiel, but he hurried to his side. “Yeah? What do you need? You're cold, aren't you? Dean said you'd probably feel cold.”

Castiel sighed in frustration. “I'm not cold, Sam! That was just right after the procedure-”

“Then what? What can I do?”

He shook his head wearily. “You can calm down. Please. You're making me nervous!” 

“I'm-oh.” Sam sat and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. I'm not like this.”

“Clearly you are.”

“No,” he groaned. “No, I'm really not. I don't know what's wrong with me. Dean was always the one, when we were kids. I think I was twenty the last time he tried to spoon soup into my mouth. Whenever I was sick, he turned into this crazy person, and I never understood it. Till now. I just want to anticipate everything you could possibly want or need. It's making me...It's making me into Dean. I'm sorry.” 

Castiel laughed weakly. “Your brother has lost some of that bedside manner over the years. Soon as I woke up, he told me Al wanted me to help Eli with something in the lab before leaving, and laughed at me when I tried to get up.”

Sam frowned at him. “Why would Al need you to work in the lab right after you woke up from surgery?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “But I was still groggy enough to believe it.” 

His lover chuckled, and touched his face with a gentle hand. “And you're still worried enough about whether he regrets hiring you to go do it.”

Castiel shrugged, then wished he hadn't. Every muscle still felt sore. “I just like to do good work. And I don't want him to ever think this condition is going to impede my ability to do it. It's progressive, Sam. There's no cure, and many of us end up disabled to the point we can't work, and I don't want him to think I can't-” 

“Shh.” Sam kissed him softly. “Don't worry about Al. His evaluation of your work was fantastic. He called you exemplary. And as for Dean? I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“No. It’s okay. I’ve been told Dr. Winchester expresses friendship through tormenting his friends.”

Sam snickered. “Something like that.” He stood and moved to the door. “Speaking of which…”

Castiel felt himself sigh a little as Sam moved away. In one way, it was a loss of comfort. But on the other, it was a bit of a relief to be separated from the unfamiliar smothering presence for just a moment. Castiel had always been introverted. He was learning that Sam, though he was somewhat more reserved than his brother, was not.

Sam was a puzzle. A lovely one, assuredly, but something of an exhausting one. Castiel had not been in many relationships in his life, and thus far, it was a strange, wonderful and confusing reality.

The man returned with his arms full of oddities. Castiel stared. “What is that?”

The laugh brightened the room. “Speaking of your friends,” he said in a teasing tone Castiel did not understand.

He frowned. “Sam, I don't have friends.” They had been over this. What was he talking about?

“Well, apparently you do,” Sam corrected, in a way that Castiel tried not to hear as smug.

“What?”

Sam placed the colorful items on the side table, and began picking through them at random. “Dr. Flagstaff wishes you a fast recovery, and says she already misses your chats about theology while you wait for the elevator together.”

Castiel blinked. “Dr. Flagstaff? Did she...even know my name?” 

“Of course she did. This one is from Dr. Roberts, who says she's happy to buy you a drink to celebrate having survived Dean's knife.”

“Cara Roberts? How did she even know…”

“Dr. Aldrich, Amy and Eddie in the morgue sent flowers. Dr. Lee from pathology sent you some kind of herbal tea sampler thing.”

Castiel smiled softly. “Amanda Lee? She overheard me say I don't drink caffeine if I can help it, and we talked about teas…I can't believe she even remembers that…” 

“Dr. Gaines sent you a card saying how sorry he was that you ended up on Dean's table instead of his, and says next time you need something, to go to the real surgeon.” 

He laughed. “Noted. He was the one who gave the tour of the surgical ward in my first week.”

Sam snickered. “Dean calls him the monster of the ward. Dr. Garrison’s daughter Callie made a card for you. I'm pretty sure that's a picture of her prescribing an apple a day that's supposed to keep the doctor away.”

Warmth filled him everywhere. “She's a sweet child. I met her at a lecture her father attended, and she and I ended up coloring together on the programs outside instead, when it came time for mingling. She told me a very interesting version of Snow White in which she saved herself instead of waiting for the dwarves and prince.”

“You even got a card from a veterinarian? Dr. Marion?” 

Castiel looked up from the girl's drawing. “Really?”

“He says he appreciated you and he's inspired by your volunteer work, and he's going to turn some things around in his own life.”

“He attends the meetings for addiction. He was in medical school, and then switched to veterinary medicine, and...somewhere along the line...Anyway. That's nice of him to say.”

“Dr. Fuller at Memorial sent a card.” 

“Did he? Benny must have said something.”

“These are sealed, from Dr. Lewis, Nurse Kate Milligan, Paul Connelly, Kessler, Hydeker, Nurse Cindy McClellan-”

“McKellan,” Castiel corrected in amazement. “From the OB ward.”

“Kandinsky, Glockner, Mahoney and Fletcher in psychiatric sent a basket. And Pearlman, Piccolo and Forman sent cookies. Dr. Robert and Nurse Eva-”

“Stop, stop. Sam, stop. I can't...Someone, you or Benny or...someone must have organized something. It's very sweet, but unnecessary.” 

Sam was watching him. “Cas, no one organized anything. These are just the things that were delivered. Lenore Khafash and Eli each tried to visit you twice while you were still under. Meg Masters has called and texted me and Dean both to make sure Dean didn't kill you.”

Even as a panic was welling up inside him, he burst into laughter. “That sounds like Meg.” 

Sam scowled. “What she actually said was to let her know if Squirrel’s hand slipped while on her Angel, because she was willing to kick Dean's ass.” 

Castiel lay his head into the pillow slowly. “This wasn't a life-threatening surgery. And I barely know some of those people.”

“Cas? You seem to think no one has ever noticed you in your whole life. But here's what I see.”

Blue eyes lifted, and he couldn't help the touch of fear in them as he waited for Sam's analysis.

Sam touched his cheek again. “My love, you keep to yourself, and you rarely talk to anyone. But whenever you do interact with someone, whenever you let someone see the real you for just an instant, it's clear to anyone that you're a good man. Once you finally spoke to me, I fell in love with you immediately. And these people, they have a few interactions with you, talking about tea, or discussing a blood sample, or you go out of your way to help someone, or to keep a child company during a boring lecture-” 

“The lecture itself wasn't boring. It was fascinating. But afterward, everyone wants to talk to one another, and…” 

His lover was smiling at him. “And you and Callie both got overwhelmed being in a crowd, so you two colored and told stories in the lobby.”

“I almost wonder if she were simply keeping me company instead of the other way around,” Castiel admitted.

“Maybe she was. But, Cas, look. The point is that people like you. It's impossible to get to know you at all and not like you. But you're always so closed off.”

He nodded. “I never know what to say. And I get overwhelmed. And I'm overwhelmed now.” 

Sam kissed him. “I know. I'll leave you alone. I just want you to know...you do have friends. Or at least, you have people who like you, who would like to be friends. So be a recluse all you want. That's not going to stop us from liking you when you occasionally have to come out of your cave.”

He smiled softly. “I love you, Sam,” he murmured. “Thank you for being here.”

“I'm sorry I'm crowding you.”

“No. You're not. I'm just not used to...any of this. I've never had anyone watching over me before. I'm far more comfortable watching over others. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it. I do. Forgive me for still being stunned you're even speaking to me, let alone caring for me after a surgery I wouldn't even have realized could help with my condition if it weren't for your brother. No one would even know I had any condition at all if I hadn't told you.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean and Meg suspected. He called Benny, and though he didn't know much, and probably wouldn't have given particulars even if he did, he told Dean he knew you were suffering.”

A wave of shame heated his face. “I don't like to...Suffering isn't…” 

“Cas, please. With me or with your surgeon, who is also my brother, please don't try to downplay your symptoms. I know you don't want the attention or-”

“Or the pity,” he choked out.

Sad eyes turned to him. “Or that. But the truth is that you've been hurting bad, and your doctor needs to know, and friends aren't going to think less of you because you have that struggle.”

“I guess I never want you to think I need that attention. I don't have family anymore, not since I was a child. All I remember about pain is being told it was weak, that no one wanted to hear about it. Then medical school beats that into you too. Patients have pain. Doctors have to be immortal. People with pain are at the mercy of people who can treat it. And people who can treat it have to be above it.”

“If you spend too much time above it, those of us down here will never have the chance to see the real you.”

“You terrify me, Sam.”

His lover chuckled a little, and set to work checking that Castiel had everything he needed to be comfortable. “I know. How is the pump working?”

He shrugged, as weariness weighed him down. “Seems good. It's almost strange how muted the pain is right now. But it isn't like when I take a pill. My head is clear. I almost feel like I could actually lay down and rest.”

“I'll go in the other room if you'd be more comfortable.”

Castiel's eyes slipped closed, but he covered Sam's hand with his own. “No. Please. If it's okay for me to ask for it…”

Sam's voice was tender in a way he couldn't have imagined months ago. “I'll be right here,” he promised. “I'll watch over you.”

The smile on his lips faded as peaceful sleep crept onto him, and over his whole body on its spindly legs. He surrendered to it while listening to his lover humming a Kansas song he couldn't quite remember himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Arachnoiditis is a real condition, which affects all patients differently. 
> 
> Also, not all attorneys and doctors who seem like smug assholes aren't. Your first instincts are usually correct. ;)
> 
> Comments are painkillers for writers. 
> 
> ~Posing


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